Classic Poem

S TORYSS to rede ar delitabill,
Supposs that thai be nocht bot fabill:
Than suld storyss that suthfast wer,
And thai war said on gud maner,
Hawe doubill plesance in heryng.
The fyrst plesance is the carpyng;
And the tothir the suthfastnes,
That schawys the thing rycht as it wes:
And such thyngis that are likand
Tyll mannys heryng ar plesand.
Tharfor I wald fayne set my will,
Giff my wyt mycht suffice thartill,
To put in wryt a suthfast story,
That it lest ay furth in memory
Swa that na tyme of lenth it let,
Na ger it haly be foryet.
For auld storys, that men redys,
Representis to thaim the dedys
Of stalwart folk, that lywyt ar,
Rycht as thai than in presence war.
And certes, thai suld weill hawe pryss
That in thair tyme war wycht and wiss;
And led thair lyff in gret trawaill,
And oft, in hard stour off bataill,
Wan rycht gret price off chewalry,
And war woydyt off cowardy.
As wes king Robert off Scotland,
That hardy wes off hart and hand;
And gud Schyr James off Douglas,
That in his tyme sa worthy was,
That off hys price; and hys bounte,
In fer landis renownyt wes he.
Off thaim I thynk this buk to ma:
Now God gyff grace that I may swa
Tret it, and bryng it till endyng,
That I say nocht bot suthfast thing!

Quhen Alexander the king wes deid,
That Scotland haid to steyr and leid,
The land sax yer, and mayr perfay,
Lay desolat eftir hys day;
Till that the barnage at the last
Assemblyt thaim, and fayndyt fast
To cheyss a king thar land to ster,
That off awncestry cummyn wer
Off kingis, that aucht that reawte,
And mayst had rycht thair king to be.
Bot enwy, that is sa feloune,
Maid amang thaim gret discencioun.
For sum wald haiff the Balleoll king;
For he wes cummyn off the offspryng
Off hyr that eldest syster was.
And othir sum nyt all that cass;
And said, that he thair king suld be
That war in alsner degre.
And cummyn war of the neist male,
And in branch collaterale.
Thai said, successioun of kyngrik
Was nocht to lawer feys lik;
For thar mycht succed na female,
Quhill foundyn mycht be ony male,
How that, in his ewyn descendand,
Thai bar all othir wayis on hand;
For than the neyst cummyn off the seid,
Man or woman, suld succeid.
Be this resoun that part thoucht hale,
That the lord off Anandyrdale,
Robert the Brwyss erle off Carryk.
Aucht to succeid to the kynryk.
The barownys thus war at discord,
That on na maner mycht accord;
Till at the last thai all concordyt,
That all thar spek suld be recordyt
Till Schyr Eduuard off Yngland king;
And he suld swer that, bot fenyeyng,
He suld that arbytre disclar,
Off thir twa that I tauld off ar,
Quhilk succeid to sic a hycht;
And lat him ryng that had the rycht.
This ordynance thaim thoucht the best,
For at that tyme wes pess and rest
Betwyx-Scotland and Ingland bath;
And thai couth nocht persawe the skaith
That towart thaim wes apperand;
For that at the king off Ingland
Held swylk freyndschip and cumpany
To thar king, that wes swa worthy,
Thai trowyt that he, as gud nychtbur,
And as freyndsome compositur.
Wald hawe jugyt in lawte:
Bot othir wayis all yheid the gle.

A! blynd folk full off all foly!
Haid ye wmbethoucht yow enkrely,
Quhat perell to yow mycht apper,
Ye had nocht wroucht on that maner:
Haid ye tane keip how at that king
Alwayis, for owtyn soiournyng,
Trawayllyt for to wyn senyhory,
And throw his mycht till occupy
Landis, that war till him marcheand,
As Walis was, and als Ireland;
That he put to swylk thrillage,
That thai, that war off hey parage,
Suld ryn on fute, as rebaldaill,
Quhen he wald our folk assaill.
Durst nane of Walis in bataill ride;
Na yhet, fra ewyn fell, abyd
Castell or wallyt toune with in,
That he ne suld lyff and lymmys tyne.
In to swilk thrillage thaim held he,
That he ourcome throw his powste.
Ye mycht se he suld occupy
Throw slycht, that he ne mycht throw maistry.
Had ye tane kep quhat was thrillage,
And had consideryt his vsage,
That gryppyt ay, but gayne gevyng,
Ye suld, for owtyn his demyng,
Haiff chosyn yow a king, that mycht
Have haldyn veyle the land in rycht.
Walys ensample mycht have bene
To yow, had ye it forow sene.
That be othir will him chasty,
And wyss men sayis he is happy.
For wnfayr thingis may fall perfay,
Alss weill to morn as yhisterday.
Bot ye traistyt in lawte,
As sympile folk, but mawyte;
And wyst nocht quhat suld eftir tyd.
For in this warld, that is sa wyde,
Is nane determynat that sall
Knaw thingis that ar to fall:
But God, that is off maist poweste,
Reserwyt till his maieste,
For to knaw, in his prescience,
Off allryn tyme the mowence.

In this maner assentyt war
The barownis, as I said yow ar:
And throuch thar aller hale assent,
Messingeris till hym thai sent,
That was than in the haly land,
On Saracenys warrayand.
And fra he wyst quhat charge thai had,
He buskyt hym, but mar abad,
And left purpos that he had tane;
And till Ingland agayne is gane.
And syne till Scotland word send he,
That thai suld mak ane assemble;
And he in hy suld cum to do
In all thing, as thai wrayt him to.
But he thoucht weile, throuch thair debate,
That he suld slely fynd the gate
How that he all the senyhowry,
Throw his gret mycht, suld occupy.
And to Robert the Brwyss said he;
" Gyff thow will hald in cheyff off me
" For euirmar, and thine ofspryng,
" I sall do swa thow sall be king. "
" Schyr, said he, " sa God me save,
" The kynryk yharn I nocht to have,
" Bot gyff it fall off rycht to me:
" And gyff God will that it sa be,
" I sall als frely in all thing
" Hald it, as it afferis to king;
" Or as myn eldris forouch me
" Held it in freyast rewate."
The tothir wreyth him, and swar
That he suld have it neuir mar:
And turnyt him in wreth away.
Bot Schyr Jhon the Balleoll perfay
Assentyt till him, in all his will;
Quhar throuch fell eftir mekill ill.
He was king bot a litill quhile;
And throuch gret sutelte and ghyle,
For litill enchesone, or nane,
He was arestyt syne and tane,
And degradyt syne wes he
Off honour and off dignite.
Quhethir it wes throuch wrang or rycht.
God wat it, that is maist off mycht.

Quhen Schyr Edward, the mychty king,
Had on this wyss done his likyng
Off Jhone the Balleoll, that swa sone
Was all defawtyt and wndone,
To Scotland went he than in hy,
And all the land gan occupy:
Sa hale that bath castell and toune
War in till his possessioune,
[Fra Weik anent Orkenay,]
To Mullyr snwk in Gallaway;
And stuffyt all with Ingliss men.
Schyrreffys and bailyheys maid he then;
And alkyn othir officeris,
That for to gowern land afferis,
He maid off Inglis nation;
That worthyt than sa rych fellone,
And sa wykkyt and cowatouss,
And swa hawtane and dispitouss,
That Scottis men mycht do na thing
That euir mycht pleyss to thar liking.
Thar wyffis wald thai oft forly,
And thar dochtrys dispitusly
And gyff ony of thaim thair at war wrath,
Thai watyt hym wele with gret scaith;
For thai suld fynd sone enchesone
To put hym to destructione.
And gyff that ony man thaim by
Had ony thing that wes worthy,
As horss, or hund, or othir thing.
That war plesand to thar liking;
With rycht or wrang it have wald thai.
And gyf ony wald thaim withsay;
Thai suld swa do, that thai suld tyne
Othir land or lyff, or leyff in pyne.
For thai dempt thaim eftir thair will,
Takand na kep to rycht na skill.
A! quhat thai dempt thaim felonly!
For gud knychtis that war worthy,
For litill enchesoune, or than nane,
Thai hangyt be the nekbane.
Als that folk, that euir wes fre,
And in fredome wount for to be,
Throw thar gret myschance, and foly,
War tretyt than sa wykkytly,
That thair fays thair jugis war:
Quhat wrechitnes may man have mar?

A! fredome is a noble thing!
Fredome mayss man to haiff liking;
Fredome all solace to man giffis:
He levys at ess that frely levys!
A noble hart may haiff nane ess,
Na ellys nocht that may him pless,
Gyff fredome failyhe: for fre liking
Is yharnyt our all othir thing.
Na he, that ay hass levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte.
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to pryss,
Than all the gold in warld that is.
Thus contrar thingis euir mar,
Discoweryngis off the tothir ar.
And he that thryll is has nocht his;
All that he hass embandownyt is
Till hys lord, quhat euir he be.
Yheyt has he nocht sa mekill fre
As fre wyll to leyve, or do
That at hys hart hym drawis to.
Than mayss clerkis questioun,
Quhen thai fall in disputacioun,
That gyff man bad his thryll owcht do
And in the samyn tym come him to
His wyff, and askyt hym hyr det,
Quhethir he his lordis neid suld bet,
And pay fryst that he awcht, and syne
Do furth his lordis commandyne;
Or leve onpayit his wyff, and do
Thai thingis that commandyt is him to?
I leve all the solucioun
Till thaim that ar off mar renoun.
Bot sen thai mak sic comperyng
Betwix the dettis off wedding,
And lordis bidding till his threll;
Ye may weile se, thoucht nane yow tell,
How hard a thing that threldome is.
For men may weile se, that ar wyss,
That wedding is the hardest band,
That ony man may tak on hand:
And thryldome is weill wer than deid;
For quhill a thryll his lyff may leid,
It merrys him, body and banys;
And dede anoyis him bot anys.
Schortly to say, is nane can tell
The halle conditioun off a threll.

Thus gat levyt thai, and in sic thrillage;
Bath pur, and thai off hey perage.
For off the lordis sum thai slew;
And sum thai hangyt, and sum thai drew;
And sum thai put in presoune,
For owtyn causs, or enchesoun.
And amang othir off Dowglas
Put in presoun Wilyam was,
That off Dowglas was lord and syr;
Off him thai makyt a martyr.
For thai in presoune him sleuch,
Hys land, that is fayr inewch,
Thai the lord off Clyfford gave.
He had a sone, a litill knave,
That wes than bot a litill page;
Bot syne he wes off gret waslage,
Hys fadyr dede he wengyt sua,
That in Ingland, I wnderta,
Wes nane off lyve that hym ne dred;
For he sa fele off harnys sched,
That nane that lyvys thaim can tell.
Bot wondirly hard thing fell
Till him, or he till state wes brocht.
Thair wes nane auentur that mocht
Stunay hys hart, na ger him let
To do the thing that he wes on set;
For he thocht ay encrely
To do his deid awysily.
He thocht weill he wes worth na seyle,
That mycht of nane anoyis feyle;
And als for till escheve gret thingis,
And hard trawalyis, and barganyngis,
That suld ger his price dowblyt be.
Quharfor, in all his lyve tyme, he
Wes in gret payn, ec gret trawaill;
And neuir wald for myscheiff faill.
Bot dryve the thing rycht to the end.
And tak the vre that God wald send.
Hys name wes James of Douglas:
And quhen he herd his fadyr was
Put in presoune sa fellounly,
And at his landis halyly
War gevyn to the Clyffurd, perfay
He wyst nocht quhat to do na say;
For he had na thing for to dispend,
Na thair wes nane that euir [him] kend
Wald do sa mekill for him, that he
Mycht sufficiantly fundyn be.
Than wes he wondir will off wane;
And sodanly in hart has tane,
That he wald trawaile our the se,
And a quhile in Paryss be,
And dre myscheiff quhar nane hym kend,
Till God sum succouris till him send.
And as he thocht he did rycht sua,
And sone to Paryss can he ga;
And levyt thar full sympylly.
The quhethir he glaid was and joly;
And till swylk thowlesnes he yeid,
As the courss askis off yowtheid;
And wmquhill in to rybbaldaill:
And that may mony tyme awaill.
For knawlage off mony statis
May quhile awailye full mony gatis;
As to the gud erle off Artayis
Robert, befell in his dayis.
For oft feynyeyng off rybbaldy
Awailyeit him, and that gretly.
And Catone sayis ws, in his wryt,
That to fenyhe foly quhile is wyt.
In Parys ner thre yer duellyt he;
And then come tythandis our the se,
That his fadyr wes done to ded.
Then wes he wa, and will of red;
And thocht that he wald hame agayne,
To luk gyff he, throw ony payn,
Mycht wyn agayn his herytage,
And his men out off all thryllage.
To Sanct Androwis he come in hy,
Quhar the byschop full curtasly
Resavyt him, and gert him wer
His knyvys forouch him to scher;
And cled him rycht honorabilly,
And gert ordayn quhar he suld ly.
A weile gret quhile thair duellyt he;
All men lufyt him for his bounte;
For he wes off full fayr effer,
Wyss, curtaiss, and deboner;
Larg and luffand als wes he,
And our all thing luffyt lawte.

Leavte to luff is gretumly;
Throuch leavte liffis men rychtwisly:
With a wertu, and leavte
A man may yeit sufficyand be:
And but leawte may nane haiff price,
Quhethir he be wycht, or he be wyss;
For quhar it failyeys, na wertu
May be off price, na off valu,
To mak a man sa gud, that he
May symply callyt gud man be.

He wes in all his dedis lele;
For him dedeynyeit nocht to dele
With trechery, na with falset,
His hart on hey honour wes set:
And hym contenyt on sic maner,
That all him luffyt that war him ner.
Bot he wes nocht so fayr, that we
Suld spek gretly off his beaute:
In wysage wes he sumdeill gray,
And had blak har, as Ic hard say;
Bot off lymmys he wes weill maid,
With banys gret, and schuldrys braid.
His body wes weyll [maid, and lenye;]
As thai that saw hym said to me.
Quhen he wes blyth he wes lufly,
And meyk and sweyt in cumpany:
Bot quha in battaill mycht him se
All othir contenance had he.
And in spek wlispyt he sum deill;
Bot that sat him rycht wondre weill.
Till gud Ector of Troy mycht he
In mony thingis likynt be.
Ector had blak har, as he had;
And stark lymmys, and rycht weill maid;
And wlyspit alsua as did he;
And wes fulfillyt of leawte;
And wes curtaiss, and wyss, and wycht.
Bot off manheid, and mekill mycht,
Till Ector dar I nane comper,
Off all that euir in warldys wer.
The quethyr in his tyme sa wrocht he,
That he suld gretly lovyt be.

He duellyt thar, quhill on a tid,
The king Eduuard, with mekill prid,
Come to Strevillyne with gret mengye,
For till hald thar ane assemble.
Thiddirwart went mony baroune;
Byschop Wylyame off Lambyrtoun
Raid thiddyr als, and with him was
This squyer James of Dowglas.
The byschop led him to the king,
And said; " Schyr, heyr I to yow bryng
" This child, that clemys your man to be;
" And prayis you per cheryte,
" That ye resve her his homage,
" And grantis him his herytage. "
" Quhat landis clemys he?" said the king.
" Schyr, giff that it be your liking,
" He clemys the lordschip off Douglas;
" For lord tharoff hys fadyr was. "
The king then wrethyt him encrely,
And said; " Schyr byschop, sekyrly
" Gyff thow wald kep thi fewte.
" Thow maid nane sic speking to me.
" Hys fadyr ay wes my fay feloune,
" And deyt tharfor in my presoun;
" And wes agayne my maieste:
" Tharfor hys ayr I aucht to be.
" Ga purches land quhar euir he may;
" For tharoff haffys he nane perfay:
" The Clyffurd sall thaim haiff, for he
" Ay lely has serwyt to me."
The byschop hard him swa ansuer,
And durst than spek till him na mar;
Bot fra his presence went in hy,
For he dred sayr his felouny:
Swa that he na mar spak thairto.
The king did that he com to do:
And went till Ingland syn agayn,
With mony man off mekill mayn.

L ORDINGIS , quha likis for till her,
The Romanys now begynnys her,
Off men that war in gret distress,
And assayit full gret hardynes,
Or thai mycht cum till thair entent:
Bot syne our Lord sic grace thaim sent,
That thai syne, throw thar gret walour,
Come till gret hycht, and till honour,
Magre thair fayis euirilkane,
That war sa fele, that ane till ane
Off thaim thai war weill a thowsand.
Bot quhar God helpys quhat may withstand?
Bot and we say the suthfastnes,
Thai war sum tyme erar may then les.
Bot God that maist is of all mycht,
Preserwyt thaim in his forsycht,
To weng the harme, and the contrer,
At that fele folk and pantener
Dyd till sympill folk and worthy,
That couth nocht help thaim self: for thi,
Thai war lik to the Machabeys,
That, as men in the Bibill seys,
Throw thair gret worschip and walour,
Fawcht in to mony stalwart stour,
For to delyuir thar countre
Fra folk that, throw iniquite,
Held thaim and thairis in thrillage:
Thai wrocht sua throw thar wasselage,
That, with few folk, thai had wictory
Off mychty kingis, as sayis the story,
And delyueryt thar land all fre;
Quharfor thar name suld lovyt be.

Thys lord the Brwyss, I spak of ayr,
Saw all the kynryk swa forfayr;
And swa trowblyt the folk saw he,
That he tharoff had gret pitte.
Bot quhat pite that euir he had,
Na contenance thar off he maid;
Till on a tym Schyr Jhone Cumyn,
As thai come ridand fra Strewillyn,
Said till him; " Schyr, will ye nocht se,
" How that gouernyt is this countre?
" Thai sla our folk but enchesoune,
" And haldis this land agayne resoune,
" And ye tharoff suld lord be.
" And gyff that ye will trow to me,
" Ye sall ger mak [yow] tharoff king,
" And I sall be in your helping;
" With thi ye giff me all the land,
" That he haiff now in till your hand:
" And gyff that ye will nocht do sua,
" Na swylk a state apon yow ta,
" All hale my land sall youris be;
" And lat me ta the state on me,
" And bring this land out off thyrllage.
" For thair is nothir man, na page,
" In all this land than thai sall be
" Fayn to mak thaim selwyn fre. "
The lord the Brwiss heard his carping,
And wend he spak bot suthfast thing.
And, for it likit till his will,
He gave his assent sone thartill:
And said, " Sen ye will it be swa,
" I will blythly apon me ta
" The state, for I wate that I have rycht;
" And rycht mayss oft the feble wycht."

The barownys thus accordyt ar;
And that ilk nycht writyn war
Thair endenturis, and aythis maid,
To hald that thai forspokyn haid.
Bot off all thing wa worth tresoun!
For thair is nothir duk, ne baroun,
Na erle, na prynce, na king off mycht,
Thocht he be neuir sa wyss na wycht,
For wyt, worschip, price, na renoun,
That euir may wauch hym with tresoune.
Wes nocht all Troy with tresoune tane,
Quhen ten yeris of the wer wes gane?
Then slayn wes mone thowsand
Off thaim with owt, throw strenth of hand;
As Dares in his buk he wrate,
And Dytis, that knew all thar state.
Thai mycht nocht haiff beyn tane throw mycht;
Bot tresoun tuk thaim throw hyr slycht.
And Alexander the Conqueroure,
That conqueryt Babilonys tour,
And all this warld of lenth and breid,
In twelf yher, throw his douchty deid,
Wes syne destroyit throw pwsoune,
In his awyne howss, throw gret tresoune.
Bot, or he deit, his land delt he:
To se his dede wes gret pite.
Julius Cesar als, that wan
Bretane and Fraunce, as dowchty man,
Affryk, Arrabe, Egipt, Surry,
And all Evrope halyly;
And for his worschip and valour
Off Rome wes fryst maid emperour;
Syne in hys capitole wes he,
Throw thaim of his consaill priue,
Slayne with pusoune, rycht to the ded:
And quhen he saw thair wes na rede,
Hys eyn with his hand closit he,
For to dey with mar honeste.
Als Arthur, that throw chevalry
Maid Bretane maistres and lady
Off twelf kin[rykis] that he wan;
And alsua, as a noble man,
He wan throw bataill Fraunce all fre;
And Lucius Yber wencusyt he,
That then of Rome was emperour:
Bot yeit, for all his gret valour,
Modreyt his systir son him slew;
And gud men als ma then inew,
Throw tresoune, and throw wikkitnes;
The Broite beris thairoff wytnes.
Sa fell off this conand making:
For the Cwmyn raid to the king
Off Ingland, and tald all this cass;
Bot, I trow, nocht all as it was.
Bot the endentur till him gaf he,
That soune schawyt the iniquite:
Quharfor syne he tholyt ded;
Than he couth set thairfor na rede.

Quhen the king saw the endentur,
He wes angry out of mesur,
And swour that he suld wengeance ta
Off that Brwyss, that presumyt swa
Aganys him to brawle or ryss,
Or to conspyr on sic a wyss.
And to Schyr Jhon Cwmyn said he,
That he suld, for his leawte,
Be rewardyt, and that hely:
And he him thankit humyly.
Than thoucht he to have the leding
Off all Scotland, but gane saying,
Fra at the Brwce to dede war brocht.
Bot oft failyeis the fulis thocht;
And wyss mennys etling
Cummys nocht ay to that ending
That thai think it sall cum to;
For God wate weill quhat is to do.
Off hys etlyng rycht swa it fell,
As I sall efterwartis tell.
He tak his leve, and hame is went;
And the king a parlyament
Gert set thaireftir hastely;
And thidder somownys he in hy
The barownys of his reawte.
And to the lord the Bruce send he
Bydding to come to that gadryng.
And he that had na persawyng
Off the tresoun, na the falset,
Raid to the king but langer let.
And in Lundon hym herberyd he,
The fyrst day off thair assemble;
Syn on the morn to court he went
The kyng sat into parleament;
And forouch hys consaile priue,
The lord the Bruce thar callyt he,
And schawyt hym the endentur.
He wes in full gret auentur
To tyne his lyff; bot God of mycht
Preserwyt him till hyer hycht,
That wald nocht that he swa war dede.
The king betaucht hym in that steid
The endentur, the seile to se;
And askyt, gyff it enselyt he?
He lukyit the seyle ententily,
And answeryt till hym humyly,
And sayd; " How that I sympill be,
" My seyle is nocht all tyme with me;
" Ik have ane othir it to ber.
" Tharfor giff that your willis wer,
" Ic ask yow respyt for to se
" This lettir, and thairwith awysit be,
" Till to morn that ye be set:
" And then, for owtyn langer let,
" This lettir sall I entyr heyr,
" Befor all your consaill planer;
" And thair till in to borwch draw I
" Myn herytage all halily. "
The king thoucht he wes traist inewch,
Sen he in bowrch hys landis drewch;
And let hym with the lettir passe,
Till entyr it, as for spokin was.

The Bruys went till his innys swyth;
Bot wyt ye weile he wes full blyth,
That he had gottyn that respyt.
He callit his marschall till him tyt,
And bad him luk on all maner,
That he ma till his men gud cher;
For he wald in his chambre be,
A weill gret quhile in priuate,
With him a clerk for owtyn ma.
The marschell till the hall gan ga,
And did hys lordys commanding.
The lord the Bruce, but mar letting,
Gert priuely bryng stedys twa.
He and the clerk, for owtyn ma,
Lap on, for owtyn persawyng:
And day and nycht, but soiournyng,
Thai raid; quhill, on the fyften day,
Cummyn till Louchmaban ar thai.
Hys brodyr Eduuard thar thai fand,
That thocht ferly, Ic tak on hand,
That thai come hame sa priuely:
He tauld hys brodyr halyly,
How that he thar soucht was,
And how he chapyt wes throw cass.
Sa fell it in the samyn tid,
That at Drumfress, rycht thair besid,
Schir Jhone the Cumyn soiournyng maid;
The Bruss lap on, and thiddir raid;
And thoucht, for owtyn mar letting,
For to qwyt hym his discoueryng.
Thiddir he raid, but langer let,
And with Schyr Jhone the Cumyn met,
In the Freris, at the hye awter,
And schawyt him, with lauchand cher,
The endentur; syne with a knyff,
Rycht in that sted, hym reft the lyff.
Schyr Edmund Cumyn als wes slayn,
And othir mony off mekill mayn.
Nocht for thi yeit sum men sayis,
At that debat fell othir wayis:
Bot quhat sa euyr maid the debate,
Thar throuch he deyt, weill I wat.
He mysdyd thair gretly but wer,
That gave na gyrth to the awter.
Tharfor sa hard myscheiff him fell,
That Ik herd neuir in Romanys tell
Off man sa hard frayit as wes he,
That eftirwart com to sic bounte.

Now agayne to the king ga we;
That on the morn, with his barne,
Sat in till his parleament;
And eftyr the lord the Brwyss he sent,
Rycht till his in, with knychtis kene.
Quhen he oft tyme had callit bene,
And his men eftir him askit thai,
Thai said that he, sen yhystirday,
Duelt in his chambyr ythanly,
With a clerk with him anerly.
Than knokyt thai at his chamur thar;
And quhen thai hard nane mak ansuar,
Thai brak the dur; bot thai fand nocht,
The quhethir the chambre hale thai socht.
Thai tauld the king than hale the cass.
And how that he eschapyt was.
He wes off his eschap sary;
And swour in ire, full stalwartly,
That he suld drawyn and hangit be.
He manausyt as him thoucht: bot he
Thoucht that suld pass ane othir way.
And quhen he, as ye hard me say,
In till the kyrk Schyr Jhone haid slayn,
Til Louchmabane he went agayne;
And gert men, with his lettres, ryd
To freyndis apon ilk sid,
That come to hym with thar mengye;
And his men als assemblit he:
And thoucht that he wald mak him king.
Our all the land the word gan spryng,
That the Bruce the Cumyn had slayn;
And amang othir lettres ar gayn
To the byschop off Androwss towne,
That tauld how slayn wes that baroun.
The lettir tauld hym all the deid:
And he till his men gert reid;
And sythyn said thaim; " Sekyrly
" I hop, Thomas prophecy
" Off Hersildoune sall weryfyd be
" In him; for, swa our Lord help me
" I haiff gret hop he sall be king,
" And haiff this land all in leding. "

James off Dowglas, that ay quhar
All wayis befor the byschop schar,
Had weill hard all the lettir red;
And he tuk alsua full gud hed
To that the byschop had said.
And quhen the burdys doun war laid,
Till chamyr went thai then in hy:
And James off Dowglas priuely
Said to the byschop; " Schyr, ye se
" How Inglis men, throw thair powste,
" Dysherysys me off my land;
" And men has gert yow wndirstand,
" Als that the erle off Carryk
" Clamys to govern the kynryk:
" And, for yon man that he has slayn,
" All Inglis men ar him agayn,
" And wald disheryss hym blythly;
" The quhethir with him duell wald I.
" Tharfor, Schir, giff it war your will,
" I wald tak with him gud and ill.
" Throw hym I trow my land to wyn,
" Magre the Clyffurd and his kyn. "
The byschop hard, and had pite,
And said; " Swet son, sa God help me!
" I wald blythly that thow war thair,
" Bot at I nocht reprowyt war.
" On this maner weile wyrk thou may
" Thow sall tak Ferrand my palfray;
" And for thair is na horss in this land
" Sa swycht, na yeit sa weill at hand;
" Tak him as off thine awyne hewid,
" As I had gevyn thar to na reid.
" And gyff his yhemar oucht gruchys,
" Luk that thow tak hym magre his;
" Swa sall I weill assonyeit be.
" Mychty God, for his powste,
" Graunt that he that thow passis to,
" And thow, in all tyme sa weill to do,
" That ye yow fra yowr fayis defend!"
He taucht him siluer to dispend;
And syne gaiff him gud day,
And bad him pass furth on his way;
For he na wald spek till he war gane.
The Dowglas then his way has tane
Rycht to the horss, as he him bad:
Bot he, that hym in yhemsell had,
Than warnyt hym dispitously.
Bot he, that wreth him encrely,
Fellyt hym with a suerdys dynt.
And syne, for owtyn langer stynt,
The horss he sadylt hastely;
And lap on hym delyuerly;
And passyt furth but leve taking.
Der God, that is off hevyn king,
Sawff hym, and scheld him fra his fayis!
All him alane the way he tais
Towart the towne off Louchmabane:
And, a litill fra Aryk stane,
The Bruce with a gret rout he met,
That raid to Scone, for to be set
In kingis stole, and to be king.
And quhen Dowglas saw hys cummyng,
He raid, and hailsyt hym in hy,
And lowtyt him full curtasly;
And tauld him haly all his state,
And quhat he was, and als how gat
The Clyffurd held his herytage:
And that he come to mak homage
Till him as till his rychtwiss king;
And at he boune wes, in all thing,
To tak with him the gud and ill.
And quhen the Bruce had herd his will,
He resawyt him in gret daynte,
And men, and armys, till him gaff he.
He thoucht weile he suld be worthy;
For all his eldris war douchty.
Thusgat maid thai thair aquentance,
That neuir syne, for nakyn chance,
Depertyt quhill thai lyffand war.
Thair frendschip woux ay mar and mar;
For he serwyt ay lelely;
And the tothir full wilfully,
That was bath worthy, wycht, and wyss,
Rewardyt him weile his seruice.

The lord the Bruce to Glaskow raid,
And send about him, quhill he haid
Off his freyndis a gret menyhe.
And syne to Scone in hy raid he,
And wes maid king but langer let,
And in the kingis stole wes set;
As in that tyme wes the maner.
Bot off thar noble gret affer,
Thar seruice, na thar realte,
Ye sall her na thing now for me;
Owtane that he off the barnage
That thidder come tok homage;
And syne went our all the land,
Frendis, and frendschip purchesand,
To maynteym that he had begunnyn.
He wyst, or all the land war wonnyn,
He suld fynd full hard barganyng
With him that wes off Ingland king:
For thair wes nane off lyff sa fell,
Sa pantener, na sa cruell.